Interlude
by soavezefiretto
Summary: Can Willow and Spike deal with their realationship? How far goes the bond they share, and is forgiveness still possible after Buffy's betrayal? **Sequel to The Gift and The Bond** CHAPTER 5 UP, NOW COMPLETE!!!
1. Interlude

Disclaimer:I don't own the characters and situations described in "Buffy, the vampire slayer". I am not making any money out of this.  
  
Comment:This is set after the events in "The Gift" and "The Bond", my particular take on season four, also posted on ff.net. Willow and Spike have fought the Initiative together, against the initial opposition of the Scoobies, and now share a physical, mental, and emotional bond. But how long will it last? Can Willow and Spike confront he changes that have come upon them? Can love survive betrayal? And is forgiveness still possible?  
  
Review:Yes, please!!!  
  
  
  
Interlude (working title)  
by  
Miranda  
  
  
  
She was beautiful. Lying there naked, she looked peaceful as an innocent child, yet one could sense the strength in her, the sheer power of the muscles bundled under her smooth, golden skin, her keen, designing mind.  
  
Spike sat on the bed beside the sleeping Buffy and waited. Willow would come soon. She didn't want to, she didn't want to see it; he could sense her still fighting the inevitable, but he knew that she knew, he could feel darkness rising in her. She would come to him in the end. That was the blessing and the curse of the bond.  
  
Had he enjoyed it? Of course he had. Buffy was an expert lover, and she had given herself to him with all the rage and fury with which she used to fight him. But now Spike wasn't sure he remembered why he had done it anymore. It hadn't been for the pleasure, for, as much as he didn't like to admit it, he did feel pleasure when he was with Willow. As clumsy as her touch would seem, it was truthful. She didn't want anything from him, and she didn't hide anything. It had been so long since he had known honesty that it made him shiver inside, with a joy so sharp it sometimes came closer to pain - or fear.  
  
Maybe he had simply done it because the Slayer had offered herself to him. Her motives were clear: make Willow see her mistake would be the declared and conscious motive; assert herself in triumph, make sure she was still the only one to decide what others would think and feel, and how they would live, would be the hidden one - unknown, Spike believed, even to Buffy herself. She sincerely thought she was helping her friend, even sacrificing herself for her sake.  
  
But what were his own motives? Had it been a moment of lust? Or had he always cherished a secret attraction for the Slayer? Was he fighting the feelings he didn't want to have for Willow? Was he trying to prove that he was still himself? Was he just being what he was - a vile, treacherous vampire?   
  
Or was he running away?  
  
In that moment, the door opened, and Willow's black silhouette stood out against the myriads of stars sparkling in the clear autumn night.  
  
"Buffy, wake up. Willow is here."  
  
-------------------  
  
From the other side of the threshold, Willow saw Buffy start up, look around in confusion, then fix her eyes on her, and freeze in sudden recognition and shock. Seeing them both side by side, naked and bathed in moonlight, Buffy and her William, Willow was struck by how beautiful they were. They matched each other perfectly: strong-willed, lean, ruthless. Spike's expression was stony.  
  
"Willow - I...- I...- I didn't mean to..."  
  
"You didn't mean to, Buffy? What did you mean then?"  
  
"I...- I.... It's not what you think!"  
  
"What am I thinking?"  
  
Buffy tried to speak, but her mind was a grey, sticky mess. She knew where she was and what she had done, but although she knew she had had a good reason, she couldn't remember it now. She remembered being in her room, waiting for Riley to come and pick her up to go to the movies. When he had arrived, she had been irritable, outright nasty. Riley tried to talk, ask her what was the matter, but Buffy ended up sending him away. She wasn't sure if she had broken up with him. Maybe she had.  
  
Why would she do such a thing? She loved Riley, didn't she? Sure she did. He was the kind of guy she had been looking for all her life. And why had she gone to Spike's place, when she knew that Willow would be in a drama-club meeting until late in the evening?   
  
Then things had gone very fast. It was almost as if Spike had been waiting for her impatiently. When she stepped into the crypt, he was already taking off his shirt. They had not spoken a single word. Before she knew it, they were lying on the bed. But Buffy had never been able to lie to herself: he hadn't forced her to do anything she didn't want to. She had enjoyed it in a savage, hurtful way.  
  
And now Willow was standing before her, and Buffy knew there must be something she could say to her, something that would explain it all, make it all better...  
  
"Go."  
  
"Look, Willow... I- I know what you must be thinking but this is... really, this isn't... we... we have to talk about this..."  
  
"Go, William."  
  
----------------  
  
  
A sudden flash of anger hit Buffy as she realised that Willow was not talking to her, was barely acknowledging that she was in the room at all. She had a curious sensation of disappearing. Never before had she been in the same room with other people and felt her presence was not necessary.  
  
This wasn't what Spike had expected either. He had expected flashing eyes, fiery whispered words. His head on the floor. A stake in his heart, maybe.   
  
If there was one thing a being like him couldn't possibly expect, it was grace. 


	2. Take you home

Comment:I know it's short and ugly, and not at all up to my standards. But this is the best I could come up with. I hope to lead this story to its ungraceful end - one way or the other - by the end of the week. If you're looking for a little more fun and are not entirely opposed to Trek, try "Not Fifteen" in the "The New Generation" section, which will hopefully be updated by tomorrow. (No, this is not covert publicity - this is very open publicity:))  
  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
The children ran away screaming.   
  
Those yellow, lifeless eyes, those sharp fangs would haunt their dreams for days. For a moment, Spike regretted that. He didn't want to harm them, he just wanted to be alone. Maybe he shoud have just told them...  
  
But then, they were so young. They still had the ability to forget. A week from now, the dreams would have faded; two weeks, and a new moster would have gripped their imagination.   
  
He, on the other hand, would remember: their faces, distorted with terror, the sound of their voices and of their little feet running for their lives.  
  
Yes, he would remember. How inconvenient. How - bothersome. People used to be objects for him, lined up and waiting for him to cover his necessities: hunger, lust, violence. If they lived long enough to endure it, one could even have fun with them.   
  
All that had changed, of course, when that chip was embedded in his brain. From that moment on, people meant nothing but physical pain. Better to stay away from them. Better to be alone.  
  
Spike lit a cigarette and retreated further into the shadows of the deserted alley. It ocurred to him that, if he really wanted to be alone, maybe it hadn't been a very good idea to come to a hopelessly overpopulated city, where even the filthiest backstreets were infested with kids in rags kicking a stolen ball around and sniffing glue out of paper bags.  
  
But then again, if he wanted to be alone, there was no good reason to get involved with humans - get involved with ONE human, herself not much more than a child. He should have taken advantage of her and then leave her behind.  
  
Well, it hadn't been his choice, had it? It was the Bond. She had given him her blood, and now he bore this curse. Nothing he could do about it. Nothing he was concerned about. Nothing at all.  
  
Suddenly, Spike banged his head against the iron railing of the fire escape where he was sitting. He grunted. It was satisfying to feel a pain that did not come from inside. A pain that was not HER. So he did it again. And again.  
  
"Stop that."  
  
Spike whirled around, but it was not surprise what he felt; it was terror. She had found him, and this time, this time he was ready to let her kill him.  
  
"Slayer."  
  
Standing before him, Buffy tried to recall how it had been, that day, on the stone floor of the crypt first, then on the silk-sheethed bed. She tried to remember his hands, his body, what he had said to her or how he had looked. And, like every time she had tried before, there was nothing but a blank. Not even his presence could stir up her a memory in her mind or in her heart. As if she had been alone in that crypt all the time; as if he had been somewhere else...  
  
"How did you find me?" As if he were interested.  
  
"I kept asking the counter-people at every bus-station about a tall, bleach-blonde guy in a black duster that only buys night-bus tickets. It's not like you took great pains to cover your traces."  
  
"I don't have enough money to cover my traces."  
  
"Yeah, you must be pretty run down by now, huh?"  
  
Spike's head exploded in pain for a second as he felt the irrepressible urge to slap her across the face. The same diffident tone, the same patronising attitude... Didn't she feel sorry? Did she actually think what she had done to Willow (what THEY had done to Willow) was right? If that was so, he thought, they were both disgusting and certainly deserved the ugly death they would die here. So be it. Let the dance begin.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
Nothing but habit made him ask the question: she had come to finish the job. What they had done had not been enough.  
  
Spike knew, knew with as much certainty as he knew he was dead, that what Willow had seen had not been enough to kill her bond with him. Because unlike him (unlike him), it was a bond she had chosen. Without words, without reasons, she had chosen him for her life. That was her gift. She had drunk none of his blood, yet Spike could feel her calling, her power over him - a power even he could not understand.  
  
"I've come to take you home."  
  
That took Spike off guard. Buffy could barely hear his voice when he asked: "What?"  
  
There was still nothing. No regret, no anger, no pity. Buffy hadn't been able to feel anything since she had spoken to Willow, the same night Spike had left. The conversation had been short, and Willow had looked out of the window the whole time - not once had she made a single gesture acknowledging Buffy's presence in the room, her attempts to apologize, to offer expiation, to explain. The coldness that radiated from that slight figure by the window had cut straight into Buffy's heart, and gripped her still. Worst of all, Buffy had the certainty that Willow could go on like that indefinitely: just standing there, no speaking, not listening, watching hours, days, months, years go by.  
  
One way or the other, it had to end. 


	3. Unwanted

Comment:Basically, a conversation between Buffy and Spike that starts in a strange position. Maybe you'll hate Buffy a little less after reading this. Self-discovery is not everyone's cup of tea, so I'm issuing a "heady philosophical stuff"-warning. As always, thanks for reading and please tell me what you think!!  
  
  
  
Interlude: Chapter 3  
  
  
"Was this what you needed?"  
  
Buffy was sitting squarely on Spike's stomach, panting heavily. Her hair fell over her face as she looked down on him, holding his arms pinned to the dirty pavement.   
  
"I don't need anything from you!", he spat. He was twitching from an excess of repressed tension, but he knew that trying to break free now would only mean spending a great amount of energy with no result. He could feel the pressure of her thighs against the sides of his body.  
  
"Do you want some more?"  
  
Spike set his teeth and turned his head, but Buffy would not even permit him that. With one quick move she brought his hands together over his head and held them there with one hand; with the other, she grabbed him by the jaw and forced him to look straight up at her.  
  
"Tell me! Is it enough, or do you need some more?"  
  
"If it were not for this bloody chip, you would be dead by now, you know that, don't you?"  
  
"If it were not for the chip, we wouldn't be having this sweet conversation. Life is hard and unfair. You have your chip, I'm alive, and I'm on top."  
  
There was no denying it: Buffy was having fun. In the fight she had found herself again, the self she had meant to leave behind when she crossed the threshold to Spike's crypt. This was what she was: a fighter, a Slayer, triumphant over the enemy, ready to deal the final blow. This was what she liked: killing vampires. Everything else would come along the way.  
  
From now on, there would be no more attempts to make herself be someone else or feel differently. No more trying to make herself and others fit into a kind of world she couldn't believe in anymore. No more order, no more rules imposed by others, by books, by the TV, by teenage magazines. She had needed to betray her best friend, sleep with her worst enemy, chase him into this filthy alley and beat him nearly out of his wits to find her own peace. For that, and for so many other reasons, she owed it to Willow to bring him back. What would happen then, Buffy didn't even want to know. After all, if there was someone to believe in destiny, that was her.  
  
Her expression softened, while her grip on Spike's hand and body was still hard.  
  
"Look, I just want to talk."  
  
"There's nothing to talk about. You won, you're on top." He wasn't looking away now, and in his eyes Buffy could plainly see the words he wasn't speaking: Finish what you started. Kill me. - And she could read one other word in Spike's eyes, one word that frightened her more than anything she had ever seen there: please.   
  
So moved she was, that she was tempted to do what he wanted, to ram a stake through his heart and gather up the dust, then bring it home to Willow, put it in her hands and say: this is Spike, this is his life and his death. It is yours now. Do what you will with him and with me.  
  
Buffy sighed. This was going to be hard work.  
  
"This is not about winning or losing, Spike." On a sudden impulse, she released his hands and stood up, so that he was left lying on the floor, momentarily disoriented. Then he too leapt to his feet. The impulse to run lasted only for a second. He had seen her determination: this little woman was implacable. Whatever she wanted from him, she would get it. This was her game.  
  
"What is it about then, Buffy?", he asked tiredly.  
  
"It's about you."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes. Because you're the only one in our happy little family who isn't ready yet to accept what he is and what he must do."  
  
"Right. And you're here to tell me."  
  
"Exactly.  
  
"Well, Buffy, I think I have told you this before - all this transcendental shit really doesn't suit you. It will make your cute face wrinkle up." Spike stooped to pick up his duster from the floor, but froze in mid-movement.  
  
"Don't screw around with me!", Buffy bellowed.  
  
"Well, too late for that!", Spike countered. Buffy could tell she had made him furious. Good. Finally.  
  
"You think you're so special, that no one will ever understand what you feel or what you're going through. Well, you're wrong, because I know what you're going through, I understand you! Do you think I don't know why you fucked me? Spike, I understand your reasons much better than I understand my own!"  
  
For the moment, Spike seemed to be dumb-struck by the sheer force of her voice and her presence.  
  
"You didn't want to feel what you feel! You didn't want to love Willow because you were afraid of what that would do to you, because it would change everything. So you took the easy way out. You thought if you could make her hate you, what you felt would go away too. I have been there, Spike, believe me. And I know it doesn't work. Or does it?"  
  
Spike turned away and stared at the raw brick wall.  
  
"Does it, Spike?!"  
  
She had never heard his voice so thin and hesitant: "You don't understand... She did something - something for me... and now we have this - this Bond. I feel what she feels, and I can't do anything to prevent it..."  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
"I'm telling you, you don't understand!"  
  
"I understand perfectly, Spike. I understand that this grandious Bond of yours is only a pitiful excuse. Willow told me, you know? A few weeks ago. And then I looked it up in Giles' books, because I was worried about her. It's true that when a human shares her blood with a vampire, it creates a Bond, but its strength depends on how much blood the vampire drinks. How much did you have? Half a cup? Less? That can create a moderate Bond for a couple of days, and then it's over, that's it. Whatever you've been feeling over the last weeks has nothing to do with it, and you know it."  
  
The confusion on Spike's face made him look very vulnerable and lost for a second. Buffy prayed an incoherent prayer. She wouldn't be able to stand much more of this.  
  
"No... No. I thought... It can't be, Buffy. I can feel it, don't you see? I can feel it when she's angry, I can feel it when she's excited or happy, I can - I can feel her pain right now, it's real! I'm not imagining it, damn it!"  
  
"Of course it's real. It's called love."  
  
"No! It's not! I know what love is and this - this is not it, it's never been like this before."  
  
"That doesn't make it less real."  
  
"But I don't want it!" Now the despair was plainly visible on his face.  
  
"I know. But you have it. And you can't give it back. That's how it works."  
  
Again, he turned and stared at the wall. This time, Buffy kept silent. There was nothing more to say. Either he would come back with her and try to be what he was now - or he would flee and try to be something else, until nothing was left. 


	4. Back and Gone

Comment:I know this has been absolutely intolerable behavior, so I am not even going to start and find excuses. I just want you to know that it was never my intention to leave Willow and Spike in the uncertainty I created for them - and certainly not my readers, and I'm really sorry.  
  
So... Spike's back!! Are you happy or what? And, what's more important: will Willow be happy?  
  
If you're not too mad at me, please, please tell me what you think! I promise to be good and post again very soon, ok? :))  
  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
  
"She's not here."  
  
Spike's voice was a monotone. Maybe it was from not using it. All their trip back, he had not spoken one word. Not one. And it had been a long trip.  
  
Or maybe he didn't care anymore.  
  
Buffy had decided not to go into Giles' place with him. She wasn't exactly a favorite with any of her friends right now, and that was understandable. She wasn't even on her own favorite-list. Her goal had been to bring Spike back. As with so many things lately, Buffy wasn't quite sure why that was so important to her (redemption? self-chastisement? simple stubbornness?), but she had done it and, on the way, she had found her own peace of mind. Well, she had found the beginning of the road that lead to it. Now she would have to walk that road for a long while.  
  
"No, she isn't. I'm sorry, Spike."   
  
Giles seemed genuinely sympathetic as he stood facing Spike in his living room. Suddenly, Spike had the feeling that, in some way or another, lately his whole life had been revolving around that living room, as if it had become the pivoting point of his existence. Here he had woken up to feel Willow's eyes burning into his skin and her blood running through his veins. Here she had confronted her friends for his sake and thereby changed everything for everyone. Here he had watched her sleep after the fall of the Initiative, after she had for the first time unleashed her darkest powers.  
  
Spike could still feel that cold abyss in his mind, even though Buffy had told him the Bond they shared must have worn out by now. She had told him what they shared was love, that he could not hide and run from the love he felt because it was what he was now - and that frightened him more than anything in his life -or death- had ever frightened him.  
  
Maybe that was why there was no inflexion in his voice. He was petrified with fear.  
  
Instinctively, Giles sensed that fear. The Watcher in him told him there was nothing more dangerous than a scared vampire, and that the safest thing to do was to put as much distance as possible between the creature and himself.   
  
But the man in him couldn't shake the knowledge: this was not just a "creature". As aberrant as it might seem, this was a being of nature, that walked the earth for a reason. And before that, it had been a man. Pain, hope, love, despair and doubt still shone in the demon's eyes. Who was he, Rupert Giles, to decide how much of that man dwelled in this body?  
  
And there was another. A slight girl, wise and noble beyond her years, love and darkness battling in her soul her future in the gray that exists between stars The Watcher in Giles knew she was dangerous too, perhaps even more so than the vampire, that one day she would perhaps cause great sorrow. But it was the man, the protector, the friend who spoke:  
  
"You can still find her. She only left a few hours ago."  
  
"Did she tell you where she was going?"  
  
"No. I went up into my room for a moment, and when I came back, she was gone."  
  
"I see." Still Spike was not moving. Giles wanted to urge him on, to say 'hurry up you fool, go find her! If you don't, I don't know what will come upon us all.. ' But he restrained himself and kept silent. Clearly, there was something more Spike needed to know.  
  
"Did she say something?"  
  
"Something? What do you mean?"  
  
"Something, anything at all. Buffy said she didn't talk to her, so I thought maybe she didn't speak to you either." Now he sounded almost hopeful.  
  
"Well, I think it was quite natural she wouldn't want to speak to Buffy, don't you think?" And he wanted to add 'and I don't know what makes you think she'd want to talk to you', but Giles bit his lip. This was the last thing Spike needed to hear. They were not dealing with ordinary high-school heartbreak here, after all; there were dark powers involved, a vampire, a witch, and the force of destiny, no less. A normal day in Sunnydale, but precautions had to be taken.  
  
Besides, something told Giles Willow actually WOULD want to talk to Spike. He wasn't quite sure if that made him happy or scared the hell out of him.  
  
"Yes, she did talk to me."  
  
"What - what did she say?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"You know about what, Giles, don't be a jerk!"  
  
Giles found this outburst of bad manners oddly reassuring. If Spike could cuss, maybe there was still some hope for the world.  
  
"She didn't say much, Spike. Really, I tried to make her talk about it, I thought she might feel better, but she... well, I guess she was too hurt."  
  
One could see clearly that Spike was hating every second of this conversation, especially because of Giles' very supportive and understanding attitude. A vampire doesn't want to be understood or supported by *humans*! First the Slayer had to tell him about the real meaning of life, now he depended on the Watcher to try and save what was still left of that life, and what would be next - the Slayer's preppie boyfriend taking him shopping? A trip to the hairdresser?  
  
"What - did - she -say?", he uttered between clenched teeth.  
  
"She said she was afraid of herself. That she needed to be somewhere else and take some time to think about everything, about who she was and what she wanted."  
  
"And didn't she mention where that might be?"  
  
"No."  
  
Spike nodded and turned to go. His hand already on the doorknob, he said: "Thank you, Giles."   
  
He had to admit some grudging admiration for the man; not only was he honestly trying to help him find Willow, but he was doing so against what must be his better judgment. And he had even helped him feel better (hopefully, he would never know THAT): when he had come into the room, everything inside Spike had felt like icy cold, slippery marble, on which every thought and feeling must crash to a thousand shreds. Now, with his annoyance about these pitiful people, a part of his former self had returned, and with it, his ability to think, to focus on what he wanted and how to get it.  
  
What he wanted was Willow.  
  
"Spike!"  
  
"Yes." He repressed his impatience. Although he didn't know where to start, he was sure he'd have some good ideas as soon as he wasn't held back by this human's general - incompetence. But he turned towards Giles with all the politeness he could muster. Never would he admit this, not even to himself, not even under torture, but Spike felt he OWED the man a debt.  
  
"I remember one other thing she said. 'Whatever I am now, whatever I will be, William is part of it.' 


	5. Things forgotten and remembered

Comment:To compensate former misbehavior, this is slightly longer than the others. Thanks for your patience!!  
  
Yes this IS the end, and yes, it IS a very open ending. I mean, Willow, Spike, a car, and the highway before them - who could resist writing about that??? It sounds almost like a TV-show to me *g* So yeah, I might be back someday with more, be warned:))  
  
Or maybe YOU have some ideas? You're welcome to write your own sequels if you feel it's taking me too long, just let me know so I can read it too, ok?  
  
Oh, and of course, I don't know if there exists a Small Springs in Oregon, and I can't remember if Spike ever had a car. It's easy enough for him to steal one whenever he needs one, so let's just assume, right?:))  
  
  
  
  
Things forgotten and remembered  
  
  
The bus was pulling out of the station when Spike arrived there. He didn't run after it. It was just a bus, surely Willow had taken some other one hours ago. No need to hurry. The only reason he was here was that this was the most likely place to begin looking for her. People who run away usually go to the bus-station and get themselves a ticket for as far away as their money can buy. Spike pictured Willow sitting in that bus (that one or any other), a small bag on her knees, looking out of the window as the landscape began to grow more and more unfamiliar, then staring at her own reflection as night fell and there was nothing but darkness outside.  
  
Suddenly, Spike he began to run, faster than he had ever run before. If there had been anyone on the street, watching him, it would have looked like a walking man turning into a blur and disappearing, leaving nothing behind except a soft 'whoosh'. But there was no one. It was two o'clock in the morning.  
  
He reached the bus as it was about to make the turn into the highway and accelerate. Spike pounded on the driver's window.  
  
"Hey! Hey, stop! Stop this bus!"  
  
The driver didn't seem very impressed, nor very willing to listen to the pounding man's demands. He had been in this business for over 25 years, and there had been a lot of guys pounding on his window.  
  
"Sorry, buddy", the driver said good-naturedly. "We already left with 10 minutes delay. There's another one leaving at four. I'm sure Gus at the station won't mind having you on a bench 'til then."  
  
"No, I don't want to catch the bus, I just want to talk to someone who is in this one." The driver seemed reasonable enough, so Spike forced himself to add: "Please."  
  
The driver nodded sympathetically. "I see. Happens all the time. I tell you what, buddy: you go back to the station and wait for the four o'clock. If by then you still think she's worth it, you buy a big bouquet and follow her. If you fall asleep, leave a message on her machine and find yourself another girl."  
  
The driver winked (he WINKED!!). Clearly, he considered the conversation finished. Probably even thought he was doing him a big favor.  
  
"Let - me - in."  
  
That was not a lovesick, drunk man outside his window anymore. That wasn't even a man anymore. The driver knew that instinctively, although it was too dark to actually see anything except an uncanny, yellow flicker in the eyes on the other side. He also knew he had never been so scared in his whole life. His stomach was a hard knot, his palms were sweating, his feet icy cold, and every nerve and muscle in his body told him to hit the gas and put a hundred miles or so of highway between Sunnydale and him RIGHT NOW.  
  
Which was exactly what he did. Before he had time to react, Spike was violently thrown aside as the bus took the curve at an absurd speed, throwing the passengers out of their seats, breaks screaming. Seconds later, all he could see were the taillights disappearing in the night and then, there was only the empty road.  
  
  
Slowly, Spike walked back to the station. The past days and weeks had been offering him some interesting sensations, as yet inexperienced. Or not experienced in such a long time that he had forgotten them. First, in the white cell, despair, close to madness. Then, when Willow came to get him out, hope. After that, confusion whenever he was around her, confusion crystallizing into longing when he came to realize the nature of the bond they shared.   
  
Buffy had succeeded in convincing him that what he felt was not longing anymore, but BELONGING. He belonged to Willow, in a way he had never belonged to anyone, not even to Angelus or Drusilla.   
  
And now, for the first time in over two hundred years, Spike was feeling utterly stupid. Almost run over by a bus, banging on the window like a madman. What was the matter with him?  
  
Deep in thought, he crossed the sidewalk in front of the bus station, not even remembering to go inside and ask someone (probably the same Gus who would very gladly let him sleep on a bench and sell him a big bouquet whenever he needed one) if they had seen a small red-haired girl. He was seeing her standing before her so clearly that it seemed absurd to ask where she was. All this was very strange indeed, Spike was thinking, and strangest of all, he wasn't feeling as bad and anxious as he thought he would. On the contrary, he was growing calmer with every passing minute, and he wondered -  
  
  
"Spike."  
  
Willow was sitting on a bench a few paces away from the station, right under an orange streetlight. She stood up to make sure her voice would reach him. As walked towards her, she sat down again and looked up at him.  
  
"I saw you run after the bus."  
  
"I thought maybe you were in there. Giles said you had left hours ago, but..." His voice trailed off. Now that she was here, the real Willow at the reach of his hand, Spike realized he had never thought about this moment. All he could think of was finding her, and it so was obvious to him that they had to be together that he had never stopped to ask himself if she felt the same way. He figured there would be enough time to think about all that.  
  
Well, this was the time to think. Fast.  
  
"Willow, I..."  
  
"I bought a ticket", she interrupted him. She held up a piece of paper. He took it.   
  
"Final destination: Small Springs, Oregon?"  
  
She nodded. "Sounds nearly as nice as Sunnydale, doesn't it. I bet it's full of vampires and demons, too."  
  
Spike sat down beside her, her bag between them.  
  
"Must have been expensive. Oregon isn't exactly around the corner."  
  
"Yeah. With what I had left over I bought this." Willow held up two Snickers.  
  
"Good choice. Lots of protein."  
  
This wasn't the conversation Spike had planned. Not that he had planned anything, really, but this was definitely not it.  
  
"So, when does your bus leave?"  
  
"It left two hours ago."  
  
For the first time, she looked at him, really looked him in the face. Under the orange light of the streetlight his pale skin took on an almost reddish glow. He looked kind of sick and very tired, but that was nothing unusual - he was dead, after all, Willow reminded herself. And yet, suddenly there was nothing she wanted more than to lay her hand on his cheek and tell him everything was going to be all right, like one would speak to a frightened little child.  
  
"I couldn't get on."  
  
"Did you loose it?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, I just couldn't." Then she took a deep breath. "Spike, listen, what happened..."  
  
Twice she had called him Spike. Not William, Spike. In that case, he had nothing to lose.  
  
"No, Willow, you listen to me first. Please." He shoved away the bag, sat closer to her and made a movement as if to put his hands on her arms, but then thought better about it.  
  
"I won't say I have been thinking a lot about what happened, that wouldn't be true. As a matter of fact, I have been trying to think as little as possible about anything at all. I AM terribly sorry for what I did, but I now that's not what you want to hear. I know you probably don't want to hear anything from me, so I'll make this as short as possible for both of us."  
  
While he was speaking, his face was more animated than Willow had ever seen it, but then he averted it for a second, and when he looked at her again, it was completely expressionless. He might as well have been asking her for a cigarette.  
  
"Don't go, Willow. Stay." Only as he spoke the words did he realize their simple truth. That was all he wanted. And although he knew Willow's answer was going to hurt him like nothing ever had before, Spike was almost relieved. He had forgotten (how many things forgotten and remembered in so short a time!) how simple life could be.  
  
"I can't."  
  
Spike nodded.  
  
"I need to get away from here, Spike. Everything has changed, in so many ways and in so little time... I don't even know what I feel anymore, if I'm scared, or glad, or angry, or sad. I've spent all my life in the same place, with the same people, this is all I know, and I never thought that would change. I never thought I would change, I could become someone other people are afraid of - I still have nightmares about that poor soldier, you know? And they don't get better when I wake up, because I know I would do it again."  
  
Now it was her standing in front of him. Spike stood up as well. If he had to loose her, he would not make their last minutes together sad and awkward, he would not beg or argue with her. There was only one more thing he needed her to know.  
  
"I love you."  
  
She was silent.  
  
He stooped to pick up her bag. "When does the next bus leave?" He started walking towards the station, but Willow didn't follow him. When he turned around, she was standing in the shadow.  
  
"I was actually thinking of getting my money back for that ticket and driving. I'm not so sure I want to go to Oregon anymore."  
  
"Driving? Do you have a license?"  
  
"I don't even have a car."  
  
He didn't speak.  
  
"But you have."  
  
"I have a... Willow!! You want my car?? You just said you couldn't drive!"  
  
"I'm not driving, you are."  
  
Spike gasped. "I am - WHAT? What is this, a special type of unfaithful-vampire-torture you found in one of your spell books? I told you I want you to stay with me, that I love you, and you not only tell me you won't stay, but you want ME to drive you away? Don't you think that's taking it a little too far?"  
  
In his excitement, he had dropped the bag and was walking towards her again. As he came closer, he could see her face more clearly and - was she actually smiling?  
  
"I'm not asking you to drive me away, I am asking you to drive with me." Knowing he must be speechless, she stepped closer to him and took his hands in hers. She closed her eyes briefly. How she had missed that touch.  
  
"I never said I wanted to leave YOU, I said I wanted to leave Sunnydale. I can't live here anymore, that part of my life is over, I can feel it. Everything that happened her belongs to the past."   
Willow hoped he had caught on the emphasis she had put on "everything."  
  
"Come with me, William. Let's see what's out there."  
  
Finally, he had found his speech. Earnestly he looked down into her face.  
  
"Well..."  
  
Willow's heart sank. he had told her he loved her, but that didn't mean he was ready to leave Sunnydale just like that. This place meant a lot to him, too, she knew that. Maybe he didn't want to be too far away from Buffy... And if she had to leave him behind, she wasn't sure she could muster the strength to do it on her own.  
  
"You'll have to let me smoke in the car."  
  
"Fine, you'll teach me how to drive."  
  
"Oh no, I won't! Women can't drive, it's a scientific fact. You'll just have to sit back and enjoy, baby."  
  
"Ok, here are the rules: first, never EVER call me baby again. Second, we will take turns driving because YOU will teach me. Third, I have the map."  
  
"Why do you get to make up all the rules?" Already he was sulking. This was going to be an interesting ride. Willow made a great effort to keep herself from grinning like a Chesire Cat and held up her ticket.  
  
"Because I am the one that's going to change this into cash money, ergo I am the one who's gonna decide when and how many cigarettes we buy."  
  
"This drive is nothing but a very prolonged and sophisticated vengeance, isn't it?"  
  
"Don't give me that look, Spike, NOW would be an appropiate moment to smile, actually."  
  
And he did. 


End file.
